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The Paradox of Pinui Binui

Today's blogpost was written by Shira Zilberstein, a Yahel Social Change fellow living, learning and volunteering for 9-months in the city of Rishon LeZion.

I hear older men whisper about it at the central vegetable stand. I saw a flyer for a two-year oldart exhibition that engaged the theme. A local youth movement wants to use the concept as thebasis for a new project. When I ask workers at the community center about “pinui binui”,“evacuation and construction”, Israel’s leading method of urban revitalization, they often rolltheir eyes.

In Ramat Eliyahu, a central-western neighborhood in Rishon LeZion, talk of “pinui binui” comesin whiffs with the wind. When founded in the 1930s, as residents of Tel Aviv and Jaffa fledsouth following the Great Arab Revolt, the neighborhood first existed as a remote haven. Cutofffrom a city center and surrounded by sand, it built up slowly. From the 1950s onwards, waves ofimmigrants settled in the area, including Romanians, Russians, Yemenites and Ethiopians. In the1960s and 1970s, when immigration accelerated, the government built cheap and fast railwayhouses to accommodate the population before permanent homes could be built. However, today,more than 2,600 of these “temporary” structures still remain. Plans for revitalization loom, andhave loomed, for more than a decade now, but everyone-- residents, community members,developers, state employees, activists, lawyers—all remain conflicted and skeptical aboutcourses of action.

“Ramat Eliyahu is going to be redeveloped soon out of necessity,” a neighborhood activist andlongtime resident explained.

Early efforts to redevelop Ramat Eliyahu began in 1995, when, to no avail, the municipalgovernment tried to generate local income by merging the area with wealthier, neighboringcommunities. Since then, pinui binui has dominated the discourse. However, little agreementexists on on who would lead the project or what would be done.

In typical pinui binui models, developers lead projects to upgrade existing infrastructure. TheEvacuation and Reconstruction Law, enacted in 1965, lays out the process in which residentssign contracts with developers to relocate to temporary housing, paid for by the developer, whiletheir old buildings are rebuilt. Then, homeowners receive new, larger, upgraded apartments intheir redeveloped buildings and developers get the rights to any additional homes and spacescreated to generate a profit. In Ramat Eliyahu, two sets of private developers, Daniel Paz andYosef Cohen of Advantage and Eli Levy of New Hope, each claim that they can effectively andefficiently carry out pinui binui projects and have been peddling contracts within theneighborhood for the past decade.

Given the scale, urgency, density and space complications of any project in Ramat Eliyahu, themunicipality now wants to take control of redevelopment. Due to the neighborhood’s relativelylow housing prices, the municipality claims that around 13,000 new apartments need to be builtin order for pinui binui to be effective, but only 7,000 are possible. A bigger increase in density

The municipality’s plan involves using land in other areas of Rishon LeZion to absorb existingtenants. A special agreement with the State allows the municipality to sell supplementary land inthe city at 16% of the land value to enable more than 2,000 homes to be built outside of RamatEliyahu. The plan involves the destruction of 2,400-2,6000 homes, the construction of 4,900 newunits in Ramat Eliyahu and neighboring Nahalat Yehuda West, Nahalat Yehuda Illit, Narcissusand Nurit and the permanent relocation of about 1/3 of the existing population.

Complicating the municipality’s plan, some residents previously signed contracts with privatedevelopers, making it impossible for the State to take full control of that land and carry out theiragenda. Additionally, no plans can go into effect until at least 80% of a building collectivelyagrees to either return to or leave the neighborhood. After years of stagnation, conflicting plansand empty promises, residents hesitate to trust any group. They feel pressured to make decisions,but see no desirable options. Residents complain that different plans “bullied” them into signingcontracts, “erased the character of the neighborhood” or “cheated” them out of a good deal.

“Ramat Eliyahu has a big problem,” an artist-organizer in the neighborhood explained, notingthat pinui binui projects bring environmental, cultural, physical and economic changes. Theyraise residents’ property taxes and maintenance fees, attract different types of businesses, createnew community spaces and change patterns of life. “Residents could be demanding and organizeto advocate for their needs and things like tax breaks, but they need a leader, knowledge andpower to do that. Pinui binui projects only really work in places with lots of money and resourcesso residents can get the right lawyers and information and advocate. In Ramat Eliyahu, there isnobody to negotiate on behalf of the neighborhood. There is a problem of education andleadership.”

A survey conducted last year by a union of four national social action groups asked a sample ofRamat Eliyahu residents about their needs and desires. As a designer of the survey noted, “Thesurvey found that people are confused and thinking individually. If they want to move, it is forthemselves, so they can get out. If they want to stay, it is for themselves because they think theyare going to be screwed over. There is no thinking about a community or an overall plan.”

At least most residents agree on one thing: amidst the maze of their Kafkaesque options,decisions and action will be coming soon. Whether plans proceed in favor of individuals,community, entrepreneurial or municipal interests, everyone remains wary.

An old building (L) in Ramat Eliyahu is juxtaposed by new high-rise buildings (R) that surround the neighborhood and are similar to the proposed structures for pinui binui.